


December 8, 1987

by cablesscutie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 1980s, F/M, Fandom Loves Puerto Rico, First Meetings, Semi-historically accurate, Zimmerparents, allusions to Bi Bob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: It is 1987 and nobody in New York City will let the Habs into a club.  Bob Zimmermann has the best night of his life.





	December 8, 1987

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingCat/gifts).



> This is my Fandom Loves Puerto Rico fulfillment for LaughingCat - thank you for participating in the fundraiser!

Bob was pretty sure they weren’t getting in. He and Verdi had been standing outside staring at the bouncer for an hour, and he still hadn’t budged.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel with the others,” Bob suggested, tugging at Verdi’s coat sleeve.

“What? No, we can’t just give up!”

“I told you, no club in the city is letting us in after we thrashed the Islanders like that.”

“Bunch a’ fuckin hosers,” Verdi grumbled, eyebrows bunching on his large forehead.

“Price of victory. If you’re that set on it, there’s always the Village.” Verdi rolled his eyes and scoffed,

“Please. You know that’s _only_ fun for you, right?”

“Better than standing around here like a couple of dweebs.” The bouncer nodded at Bob and told Verdi,

“Friend’s got a point.”

“Nobody asked you,” Verdi groused, crossing his arms. It made him look like a very large child, or possibly a recently-thawed neanderthal. 

“That’s it, we’re calling it,” Bob decided, grabbing Verdi by the arm and hauling him out of line. “Go hail us a cab,” he said, leaning back against the building next door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He wasn’t really a smoker, but it gave him something to do with his hands and mouth when he got agitated and was at a loss for a better option. Watching cabs zoom right past Verdi’s waving arms and hopping was putting him in a better mood, and the first rush of nicotine helped even more. He tipped his head back against the bricks as he let the smoke out on a sigh. A voice next to him said,

“That looks good, mind if I steal a drag?” Bob opened his eyes and almost fell over.

The woman in front of him was strikingly beautiful, sharp cheekbones and big blue eyes lit up by a clever smirk. He immediately handed the cigarette over and fumbled in his jacket to get himself another. The woman exhaled, coughing a little.

“Sorry,” Bob said, not entirely sure what he was sorry for.

“It’s fine,” she laughed, waving it off. “I’m just not much of a smoker.”

“Me either. Rough day?” She shook her head.

“Not especially. You?”

“Took a while to get my friend there to give up on getting into the China Club,” he told her, gesturing to Verdi’s still-futile attempts to get them a ride. The woman chuckled, low in her throat. “But, ah, it’s good that your day...isn’t...bad?” Bob didn’t really know how to keep the conversation going, but he desperately wanted to. He tried not to be too obvious about glancing at her, taking in the shiny satin of her black dress and the long (long) legs sticking out of the skirt. 

“I was hitting on you,” she said bluntly, dropping the cigarette and grinding it under the toe of her green pumps. 

“Oh. That’s -” _possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to me-_ “I’m Bob,” he said instead, holding out his hand.

“Alicia.” She took his hand, and her fingers were cold. Bob didn’t really think before he cupped them in both his hands and breathed into them. Alicia was suddenly blushing when he looked back to her face. It was devastatingly pretty.

“Sorry.”

“You’re sweet,” she told him, smile amused, and he could tell it was his turn to go pink. “Would you like to come in for a dance?” she asked, nodding towards the line that had just sent him and Verdi packing.

“Euh...I would love to, but...you know, they -”

“Don’t worry about that. Just go get your friend.”

“Um. Really?”

“Can he dance better than he hails a cab?” He wobbled his hand in a _so-so_ motion and was rewarded with a sparkling laugh. “Let’s go put him out of his misery.” Bob nodded and followed as Alicia took his hand.

“Verdi!” he called, just as a cab finally stopped. “Come on, we’re going in!”

“Oh you’re so fucking funny! Get your ass in here.” Bob shook his head and pointed at Alicia. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Bob nodded emphatically. Verdi waved the cab on and stomped over to Bob, finally taking in Alicia and their linked hands, eyes going wide before snapping to his face accusingly. “I left you for five fucking minutes.”

“This is Alicia. Alicia, this is Verdi.”

“Nice to meet you,” she told him, and Verdi went slack-jawed, just nodding mutely and following Bob back to the door and the bouncer. Bob prepared for an argument, but one look at Alicia and the bouncer just let them by with a curious lift to his brow. It’s a near thing, but neither of them actually make faces as they pass. 

As soon as they were in, Alicia dragged Bob, Verdi in tow, towards a booth in the back of the room. A group of women was laughing at a story from the one with curly black hair and lipstick in a deep shade of purple. 

“I’m back,” Alicia greeted them, and the woman telling the story paused to raise a suspicious brow at her.

“Just wanted some fresh air, huh?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice. 

“She did find us outside,” Bob said. Alicia patted him on the arm.

“I appreciate you trying to defend my honor, but they honestly know me better than that.”

“Ohhh yeah we do,” purple lipstick snickered into her glass, to which Alicia rolled her eyes and looked at Bob like, _see?_ The woman to her right grinned at Alicia. 

“So, you gonna introduce your new friends around?”

“This is Bob, and that’s Verdi,” she told them. “And I owe Bob a dance, so take care of this one for me, will ya’?” slapped Verdi on the back, who stumbled towards the booth and tossed a glance over his shoulder at Bob and Alicia like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited about this development or terrified. Alicia just smiled wolfishly as she turned away, Bob in tow once more. He shot a glance back at Verdi being welcomed at the table and shrugged like, _what’re you gonna do, eh?_ “He’ll be fine,” Alicia reassured him, like she was reading his mind. “They’re a fun bunch, they’ll keep him entertained. And if he’s real nice, he might even get lucky.”

“Well, you’ve single-handedly saved his night then. All he had to look forward to as plan B was going home with me.” 

“That doesn’t seem so horrible to me,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck as they slid into an empty space on the dance floor, packed with people, some outrageously famous, and others outrageously wealthy. Bob wondered briefly which Alicia was, or if she just had enough bravado to make people believe she belonged.

“Verdi and I don’t quite see eye to eye on the merits of bringing home a handsome man.”

“Oh?” Alicia raised an eyebrow. “And what would your stance be?” He stroked his hands up from where they were resting on the sides of her waist, skimming his palms over her shoulder blades and back down.

“I’m pretty much always a sucker for a nice pair of eyes.”

“A real romantic, aren’t you?” Bob shrugged.

“Great legs don’t hurt either.” Alicia laughed, head tipping back, but when she straightened up, her face tipped forward until her lips were teasingly close, their breath mingling in the scant space between them.

“I’ve always been more of an ass man, myself,” she teased, reaching down to pinch his butt. His shocked expression must’ve been funny, because she broke into giggles, pressing her face into Bob’s shoulder to hide her face, and as he held her close, still half-swaying to the music, he felt overwhelmed. They kept dancing and dancing, and she was gorgeous, and she kept turning her head to make jokes in his ear, and pressing her body all up against him, and he knew - he _knew_ , inexplicably and deep in his gut - that this was somebody he could love. It took him a half hour of agonizing over the words and trying to keep dancing normally for him to finally speak up and screw it up anyway.

“Do you want to maybe get something to eat?” He asked. And he immediately thought _“Shit - tomorrow, tomorrow, you idiot - dinner tomorrow, not -”_

“Sure, I could go for a bite to eat,” she answered immediately, and he felt his eyes go wide. He schooled his expression quickly because now she could _never_ know that he didn’t mean it that way, he was _committed_ , so he scrambled to try and think of a place that might still be open at a ridiculous hour. But then, because that night seemed determined to restore Bob’s faith in the universe, she told him, “There’s a burger place near my apartment that’s 24 hours.”

So not in his meal plan, he’d eaten a disgustingly saucy plate of wings for dinner the night before, but...if anything was worth a little high cholesterol it was this woman. He nodded, and as soon as the song ended, Alicia was dragging him by the hand towards the door. Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t told Verdi where he’s going, but it certainly wasn’t enough of a concern for him to turn back. All he could do was follow Alicia and take his chirping whenever he got back to the hotel. If he got back to the hotel? The looks she kept tossing him suggested otherwise, but burgers were not, in his experience, exactly an aphrodisiac. Bob wasn’t going to get his hopes up - this night had already given him so much more than he’d expected. If all he got was a burger and (please please please) a phone number, he’d count it the biggest win of his life.

He actually didn’t end up getting a burger, because the chicken club looked delicious and made him feel way better about his choices. Alicia, on the other hand, ordered a bacon cheeseburger and a vanilla shake, and could she get curly fries instead of the steak fries?

“Thank you so much,” she told the waitress as she passed the menus back to her, and she turned to Bob with manic glee. “I’m so excited, the food here is so good and I am _starving_.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Bob said. “I didn’t even know this place was over here.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, looks like you found me out.” He played up his accent, really pushing it on the _out_ , his face as flat as he could manage. She giggled into the water she was sipping.

“Shush, I couldn’t exactly hear you very clearly near the club.”

“I’m actually from Montreal,” he told her, and if he made sure it came out _extra_ French because women tended to find that charming, he’d never admit one way or the other. 

“So what brings you down to New York?” she asked, leaning back and getting comfortable in the booth. Bob bit his lip. If she didn’t already know who he was, then there was a good chance she didn’t care about hockey anyway...

“I play for the Montreal Canadiens. The Habs. We, euh, played the Islanders tonight.”

“Ah, hockey. That makes sense.” She pointed at him.

“It does?”

“It explains your butt.”

“My butt?” Bob tried to glance behind himself, a little self-consciously, and she laughed again. 

“Hockey players have great butts, it’s like, _known_. At least in college it was.” He coughed and took a sip of water.

“Oh, uh. Where did you go to college?”

“Samwell, it’s - well, it’s small. In Massachusetts. It’s not very well-known.”

“What did you study?”

“Literature, with a minor in theater.”

“That sounds interesting. So, do you do Broadway or something?” She laughed and shook her head.

“No, no, didn’t end up going that way. I’ve been modeling since I graduated and moved here, but I’ve been getting into film acting the past couple of years.”

“Do you like it?” Alicia seemed surprised he asked that, and he got it. Work like theirs, it was a dream job, so people tended to forget that it was still a _job_. It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.

“Most of the time,” she replied. The waitress appeared with her milkshake and a basket of curly fries, and Alicia thanked her before promptly plucking one of them out and dunking it in the shake. “I’ve made some great friends doing this,” she told him, and her brow furrowed a little. “But let’s just say that if my agent saw _this_ ,” she popped the fry in her mouth. “We’d be having words.”

“Ugh, fucking diets,” Bob grunted sympathetically. “My nutritionist has me eating so much damn spinach I feel like Popeye.”

“Oh god, they just love their leaves, don’t they? I hate leaves, it feels like gnawing on a tree, but all they want me to eat is salad, salad, salad.” Bob laughed at the disgusted expression on her face, and then beamed at the waitress bringing their food. His stomach growled, and he was suddenly ravenous at the sight of their meals. The sandwiches were consumed almost entirely in silence, all of their communication coming in moans and enthusiastic nods. They were actually a little out of breath when the food was gone, it had all been inhaled so quickly.

“That was amazing,” Bob sighed, licking a smear of mayo off his thumb.

“Tell me about it, I wanna marry that burger.” He hummed in assent. They relaxed in the booth for a couple minutes, sharing the last few sips of Alicia’s shake. After paying the check, they stared at each other for a moment, neither quite sure where the night was supposed to go from there. The silence was eventually broken by Alicia clearing her throat and asking, “Um, do you have to get back to your hotel?” Bob shook his head.

“We play the Rangers tomorrow, so we’re in town still. And, euh...Verdi kind of owes me a cover?”

“So in theory, you don’t have to be anywhere in particular until you go back to the rink.” Her voice was a neutral monotone, but he could follow the thread well enough to know the right answer was,

“In theory you’re right.” It was impossible to keep the warm smile off his face as he watched her try not to look pleased by that. She bit her lip and asked,

“And in practice?”

“If the right offer comes along, I’d definitely cash in that favor.” Her smile went big and sly, and she slid out of the booth, offering her hand to Bob.

“Consider the offer made.” He took her hand, and let her lead him into the end of the best night of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on the "semi-historically accurate" part:
> 
> The China Club was a huge deal in the 80s and 90s. [Here's](http://www.gettyimages.co.uk/event/david-bowie-and-earl-slick-at-the-china-club-august-4-1987-75012295#earl-slick-and-david-bowie-during-david-bowie-and-earl-slick-at-the-picture-id115385643) a picture of David Bowie there just a few months before this story is set.  
> And [here](http://www.espn.com/nhl/story/_/id/14178461/nhl-tie-domi-recalls-first-meeting-mario-lemieux-other-new-york-happenings) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cV36tpNUw1o) are a couple stories of NHL players partying there.
> 
> Additionally, the Habs really did play (and beat) the Islanders on [December 8th](https://www.hockey-reference.com/leagues/NHL_1988_games.html), followed by the Rangers on the 9th.  
> 


End file.
